His Firm Guidance

by Constance Masters

  His Firm Guidance

  By

  Constance Masters

  Copyright © 2013 by Stormy Night Publications and Constance Masters

  Copyright © 2013 by Stormy Night Publications and Constance Masters

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Published by Stormy Night Publications and Design, LLC.

  www.StormyNightPublications.com

  Masters, Constance

  His Firm Guidance

  Cover Design by Korey Mae Johnson

  Images by The Killion Group and Andy777/BigStock.com

  This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults.

  Chapter One

  Tyler didn’t feel like partying with the wedding crew, so he decided to go out. He had a lot of time to fill until his flight—like a whole day—and he could still go for a walk and take in the sights of Vegas.

  When he was a kid, Vegas had been his dream place. The place he built up in his mind to be so much more. Now that he’d been away for a time, he’d finally come to understand the pull of home. He’d been watching and hoping and he’d finally gotten a job in his home town, but he was starting to wish he hadn’t come here first.

  After dropping a few coins into a slot machine and circling the roulette and card tables, Tyler had already had enough of Vegas. The bright lights were too bright and the constant chatter from too many people was driving him crazy. It was hard to even assemble a thought.

  His reaction to Vegas had been a shock. When he thought of Vegas when he was young, he thought of the lights and the buzz of the crowd as being exciting. He imagined the wheels of a slot machine spinning and spinning until dollar signs all lined up in a row. There he’d be, suddenly in a white suit with smiling faces all around him as he celebrated winning his fortune. The imagination has no limits when all it has to do is embellish the positive illusions that are splashed across the screens wide and small in movies and on television. When you’re young, everything looks like a better place to be than where you are at that time.

  He left the hotel casino and wandered along the strip. The traffic here was unbelievable. He’d never seen anything like the backup of cars. The noise on the street rivaled the noise inside the hotel, only it was car horns and music from the street performers. Now they were something.

  He passed a restaurant with tables outside and decided to get something to eat so he could watch the assortment of people walking by.

  The hookers confused him. Some were really young and some seemed well past their prime, but they all seemed to have the same dress sense. What was it, a uniform? High shoes and short skirts and shiny, everything was shiny. Not to mention faces full of thick makeup and big eyelashes.

  Tyler ate his meal with a couple of beers and then decided to keep looking around a while, maybe find a bar with good music.

  Another short walk through myriad eccentrics and he found himself at the doorway of a bar with the dulcet tones of Elvis coming from within. It was a good a place as any, he thought, to fill in a few hours—couldn’t go to Vegas without seeing an Elvis impersonator, right? He sat on a bar stool with a barely touched beer in front of him. He didn’t even know why he’d ordered it. The night before had been a big one and he didn’t have any inclination to repeat it, and he’d already had a couple with dinner. The groom and the other guys had gone on another round of strip clubs and heavy drinking, but he’d decided against it. This whole bachelor party scene wasn’t really his thing. Tyler had only come to celebrate his cousin’s upcoming nuptials because he’d felt he had to, and they’d done plenty of celebrating the night before. He did finish that beer though, and as the place started to fill and the atmosphere warmed up, he found himself ordering another.

  * * *

  Whitney strapped on her best red shoes and then zipped herself into her favorite bar-hopping dress. She wasn’t going to let any of this get to her or ruin what had ended up being a very expensive weekend.

  Armed with the last of her cash and Mark’s spare pack of cigarettes, she took herself downstairs for some gambling fun. If she was lucky, she might be able to get some knight in shining armor to buy her a drink, or two, or three. As she passed a maid’s trolley, she scrunched up the cigarette packet and dumped it before stepping into the elevator.

  Whitney closed one eye as the reels spun at a blistering pace. The combination of the spinning, the sound of simulated coins dropping, bells ringing, music playing, and the swirl of cigarette smoke was starting to make her feel a little dizzy. Time to get out and get a little air.

  Whitney clomped along the brightly lit street, uncomfortable in her new shoes. She’d bought them specially for this trip and was determined to wear them. Unfortunately, they were the most uncomfortable pieces of crap ever. It would have been easier to walk with slippers full of razor blades. She felt like crying and not just because of her sore feet. This place was full of people: weird people, normal people, and everything in between, but the people who were highlighted for her were the couples. They seemed to be everywhere. Holding hands, kissing, talking to each other like they were the only ones in the world. That’s what she had thought Vegas would be for her. Instead she was alone again and wandering the streets by herself in her brand new sky-high red patent heels. She needed a drink to numb the pain.

  She took a deep breath, narrowed her eyes to improve her ability to focus, and she was ready to navigate her way through the door of the bar. She’d been drinking wine, but a stronger drink might just make things seem not such a hot mess. As uncomfortable as her shoes were, she’d left the hotel room in what she was wearing and didn’t get her other stuff. So a night on the town it was—there wasn’t a lot of choice. She wasn’t exactly dressed to go to the movies. Besides, drinking was where it was at for her tonight. She needed to forget. The fact that the last few drinks hadn’t done anything to erase any of the memories of the last few days—all the planning and the hoping, all the expectations—didn’t seem to matter. The next drink could be the one to make the difference.

  Her six-inch heels clicked their way crookedly over to the bar, doing their best to hold her upright.

  “What can I get you?” the bartender asked.

  Whitney pursed her lips. Today was a new start. She needed to make changes. She was going to make changes. She’d already decided on something stronger, but she had no idea what to choose. She scanned the upside-down liquor bottles and chose the one closest to her. “Bourbon, please,” she found herself saying as she rattled through her purse for some money. “On the rocks.” When the bartender pressed her glass under the bottle for a measured squirt, she winced. “Is that all you get?” she asked.

  “You want a double?” the man asked with amusement.

  “I want more,” she said. There was no way a little tiny drink like that was gonna numb a damn thing. She tossed a handful of change onto the bar and picked up her drink. She didn’t even notice the bartender shaking his head as he gathered up her pile of coins.

  Her forehead creased and her nose wrinkled with distaste as the amber liquid scalded the back of her throat.

  * * *

  A shiver ran through Tyler as recognition pinged in his brain. If asked, he couldn’t have said what it was that he recognized first. Her voice? Her scent? The electricity that charged the air between them was almost palpable. Who knew what it was? The one thing he did know without a doubt, before he even turned around to face her, was that the slightly tipsy yo
ung woman beside him was none other than Whitney Green, his long-lost friend from high school.

  “Whit?” he said, now looking into familiar eyes.

  “Tyler?” she asked, squinting in disbelief. “Tyler Jackson?”

  “In the flesh,” he said, trying to take in everything about her all at once. She was still pretty and her hair was still long. He’d always loved her red hair, how it hung thick and shiny over her shoulders and down her back. When he was younger, he’d often wondered, fantasized even about what it would feel like to have that soft hair spill all around them while their naked bodies rocked together in the back of his car. His balls tightened at the memory. It wasn’t even a memory. It was a long-forgotten fantasy.

  Much as he’d always wanted to date Whitney, it had never happened. There’d always been a queue of boyish losers who fought for his friend’s attentions. While Tyler was slogging away at his job in the auto repair shop and saving for college, Whitney had chosen to be with the guys who were more fun. He’d never had the heart to compete for someone who he knew didn’t want him for more than a friend.

  Whitney took a sip of her drink. “You live here now?”

  “No,” Tyler said emphatically. “Just here for my cousin Mike’s bachelor party. You?”

  “Not exactly,” she said. “I was here with my boyfriend for the weekend.”

  “Was?”

  “Long story,” she said sadly before taking another sip of the amber anesthetic in her glass.

  “I have time. Want to get a table?”

  “Why not,” she said with a smile.

  Tyler held out her chair and waited for her to sit before taking his own. A wave of déjà vu hit him as he stared across the table. How often had they sat like this opposite each other when they were in their teens? Although then, there were milkshakes and fries between them and the chatter was free and easy, if not always happy.

  “Wow,” he said. “It feels a bit like we’ve just been dropped back into the past.”

  “Kind of,” Whitney said with a wink, waving her glass in the air. “Refreshments have improved.”

  She obviously wasn’t enjoying her drink if the distasteful look she gave each time she swallowed was any indication. “Freshen your drink?” he asked. “I’m going to get a new one.”

  “Yeah. Please.”

  “You don’t like that drink, do you?” he asked with a slight hint of humor.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “The god-awful look on your face every time you take a sip.”

  “Sore throat,” she muttered, downing the remains of the glass in one gulp while doing her best to look happy about it. She failed.

  Something told him that life might not have been kind to Whitney. Her eyes were sad and she was too thin. It WAS nice to know that some things hadn’t changed. She was still as stubborn as she always had been, not to mention she was still creative with the truth. “Ok. I’ll get you another,” he said, calling her bluff. He raised his hand to attract a waitress.

  “You know, I think I’ll join you in a beer, might be more refreshing,” she added quickly.

  “Good idea,” he said with a grin.

  A good while and quite a few beers later, Tyler took Whitney’s hand across the table. “You wanna tell me now what’s going on?”

  Whitney’s eyes filled and she sniffed. “I, I’m fine.”

  “Nah uh, nope. You’re not,” he said. “You know, you mayn’t have not liked…” he said, thinking hard on whether the start of his sentence had made sense. “Sometimes you got mad when I yelled at you when we were younger…but you trusted me anyway.”

  “I know that,” she agreed, nodding her head overzealously. “I don’t know what I would have done, you know, without you after m-my folksh died.”

  “SOMEONE had to take up nagging duty. Your grandparents were too soft.”

  “Whhat can I ssay? They loved me.”

  I loved you too, he thought. “You used to listen to me then. You didn’t ALWAYSH do what I said.” He took a long thoughtful pause and almost forgot what he was saying. “Oh, yeah, but you trusted me. You used to tell me EFFERTHING.”

  “That wass then,” Whitney said dismissively, waving her arms around and managing to knock over an ashtray.

  “Whast changed?” he asked her with a glazed expression.

  With the back of her hand, Whitney scrubbed the tear that had escaped and was running down her face. “Nothing, I guessh. That’sh the problem.”

  Tyler frowned. “I don’t undershtand.”

  “You went away to shchool. You made something of yourshelf,” she slurred sadly, suddenly noticing her glass was empty. “My drink ish gone.”

  “Are you ssshure you haven’t had enough?”

  “Me?” Whitney scoffed. “Wha’ about you?”

  “Me? I’m feeling GREAT!” He was feeling great. He was in Vegas and he was home at the same time. The place suddenly looked as exciting as he thought it would. The lights inside and out were glittering like diamonds and he could have sworn that the crooner was singing slow Elvis songs just for them.

  “Me too, ssseee?” she said, convincing him that they were ok to keep partying.

  “Ok, more drinksh.”

  * * *

  After wobbling back from the bar with two beers, Tyler sat quietly for a minute while he remembered what they’d been talking about and what he had to say about that. Suddenly a light bulb lit up in his head. “I’m not sssorry I went to school, Hon. I tried to get you to shtudy. It was hard enough through high school, after that you d-didn’t want to at all.”

  “I know!” she said testily. “Ssooo you were right, ok? If that’ssh what you’ve been waiting all these years to hear. You were right! I’m still in the same place. Sstill a sscrew-up! Sstill dating losers and I’m sstill a nobody with nothing to offer anyone besidessss a piece of ass.” She waved one hand about wildly while the other tried to escape Tyler’s hold.

  His hand inadvertently tightened around the slim fingers that were trying to pull out of his grasp. “Don’t,” Tyler said, shaking his head. He hated to see her so down. “Don’t talk about y-yourself like that.”

  “Why would you care?”

  Tyler sighed. “Tell me.”

  “What? Tell you what?”

  “What happened thish weekend.” He may have had a little too much to drink, but he could still recognize her pain. It was raw and new.

  Fresh tears burned Whitney’s eyes and she blew out a breath, trying to control her emotions. “I th…ought…it was different thish time,” she said through hitched breaths.

  Tyler said nothing but held her hand warmly, silently urging her to continue.

  “W-when he planned thish weekend, he said I couldn’t come. Then he changed hhis mind. I thought hhe was going to propose,” she said. “We’d been together almossht two yearsh,” she managed to blurt out. “I thought he LOVED me!”

  “He didn’t?”

  She shook her head sadly. “I napped…and when I wwoke up, he washhn’t there. I wwent lllooking for him, downstairsh in the hotel bar…” Her hitched breaths morphed into loud sobs.

  “Shh, Honey.” Tyler said, trying to comfort her. He got up and pulled his chair next to hers so he could wrap his arms around her. “It’s ok.” It was so familiar.

  “No, it’ss not!” she wailed. “He gotsh me ttto pay for thishh weekend and then ran downshtairss and ffound another ggirl to make out with.”

  “He’s a loser. Whit, he doesn’t know what he’sh lost.”

  “I ddon’t even have anywhere to sstay,” she sniffled. “I w-walked out. I didn’t even getsh my shtuff.”

  “You can shtay with me.”

  Whitney looked at him through smeared mascara eyes. “I can?”

  “COURSE you can.” Tyler was trying to mentally add up how that was going to happen, seeing as how he was staying with twelve other guys in three rooms. What the hell, he’d get another room. Tyler nodded silently and hugged her tighte
r. Yep, they’d come full circle. “Did you love him?” he asked.

  Whitney shrugged. “I ddon’t know. I loved what I th-thought he was offering. Mmarriage, a home, babies.”

  “Why would you want THAT with someone you didn’t love?” Tyler wasn’t even sure he wanted an answer to that question, which was lucky because it hung in the air unanswered. The question and the thread of hope he’d always carried from the day he’d left for college, that one day she might actually want him.

  “Y-you know whatsh we need?” Whitney asked. “Another drink.”

  “You know, I haven’t been that lucky in love myself,” Tyler drawled as he took another swig of his beer.

  “Yeah, right.” she said, slamming the table with the flat of her hand to make a point. “You don’t have to try to make me feel betterer. I know wha’ you think of me.” She poked him in the chest.

  “Oh, and what’s that?” he challenged.

  “That I was a pain in your assh that you were glad to leaf behind when you went away to school.”

  “That’s not true,” he said. “Believe me, I’ve really shtruggled to find a real relationship. Jusht about EVERY woman I’ve met hash been after just one thing or they don’t want to be sherioush. I’m done with all that,” he said, knocking over a glass with a sweep of his hand. “Sorry. So sorry,” he mumbled to the waitress who came to pick it up. “I want shomeone who’s my best friend and I want it to at least have a chance of leading to marriage.”

  “All rightie then,” she quipped. “Let’s chelebrate.”

  “Celebrate what?” he chuckled. “Haven’t we just dishcussed how we’re both alone?”

  “I needs the little girlsh room.” she said suddenly, standing with great difficulty.

  “Are we shtill celebrating?”

  “When I comesh back.”

  Tyler thought they should move on when Whitney got back, find somewhere else to stay. She’d had too much to drink. He almost fell asleep while he was waiting. Then she was there again.